


Foot Fault

by masayosi661, purplesheep22



Series: Worthy of Trust and Confidence [1]
Category: Olympus Has Fallen (Movies)
Genre: A Chinese-English Translation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 05:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7702195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masayosi661/pseuds/masayosi661, https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesheep22/pseuds/purplesheep22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foot Fault

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Foot Fault](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6362488) by [masayosi661](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masayosi661/pseuds/masayosi661). 



 

Do not mess with your boss.

No doubt, this simple office rule also applies to the White House. As the top personal security detail, Agent Mike Banning is well-informed, but frankly speaking, he has never considered himself remotely relevant. After all, he would rather go on a mission with 10,000-feet skydiving, than getting involved with Director Lynne Jacobs. No, it doesn't mean that his superior is not a beautiful and capable lady, but it has nothing to do with his respect to her, just that... Well, he can also make do with a low-level jump from one thousand feet. Give him a break. As for the First Lady, she was indeed a beauty with elegance and humor. Even to put the love between the First Couple aside, Mike's professionalism as a Secret Service agent left no room for tidbits. However, one midnight after she has passed away for one and a half years, Mike is shocked to realize that he has stepped onto the foul line.

After the terrorist attack at the White House, the President is immediately sent to the George Washington University Hospital. Although the bullet missed all major organs in the abdomen, his injury is still severe enough to stay in for observation. As such, the Service has relocated all possible manpower to replenish the Presidential Detail, which tightly controls half of the ward area on this level as temporary presidential residence. It is not even close to the protocol, but the crowded D.C. hospital does not give them much choice.

Actually, the fact that Mike is currently camping outside the President's hospital room, is one more thing against the protocol. He is not on duty now, and should have found somewhere else to rest; but screw it, he's not leaving. He's not going anywhere, other than with his President, his Sir, and his friend. Being aware that this may be some form of post-traumatic stress disorder, Mike finishes the remaining coffee in one go and crushes the emptied paper cup annoyingly.

Then there is a terrifying cry in the room. He drops the cup and dashes inside— of course Mike is not the only one suffering from PTSD. Benjamin Asher is among the top of all the bravest and toughest guys that Mike knows, but he is the god damn President, not the Special Forces.

Once inside, he sees Connor woken up and leaning at his father's bedside. Sensing the door opened, the boy turns to Mike with panic written all over his face, close to tears.

"Mike, Dad has another..."

He bends down to put his arms around the boy, then holds him at the shoulders, and speaks in a low voice, "Don't worry. I happen to finish my coffee, would you mind helping me get another cup from the break room on the other side?"

Connor presses his lips worryingly together and looks at his father, who is shaking painfully on the bed, then turns back to Mike's calm expression. He nods hesitantly, and runs out from the door.

It has been five days since the President was admitted to hospital. When he is awake, albeit lying in bed, Asher is still the Commander in Chief who makes decisions calmly and appropriately; but once in sleep, the shadow from the attack floods over and engulfs his mind. Mike sits on the edge of the bed, and shakes the sleeping man as hard as possible without disturbing the healing wounds, as if trying to shake off the clinging hands of the ghosts hanging beside. Seconds later, the President wakes up with a start. Like a fish thrown ashore, his upper body tenses and bounces up violently, only to be pushed down by Mike's prepared and steady hands to avoid further injury in the abdomen. Mike holds him in his arms.

"Sir, it's me. Everything's alright. We are at the hospital."

Same as the days before, his President is unable to reply at once, but gasps without a word. A while later, he asks in a husky voice, "Where's Connor?"

"He went to the break room. I asked him to help me bring some coffee."

"Coffee at midnight?" Hearing Mike's casual reply, the President rests his head on Mike's shoulder, muffled the bitter laugh, "— Thanks, Mike. I guess I scared him again."

"He's a tough kid. Don't worry."

"Thank you."

Air brushes at his shoulder from the President's exhales. Mike wipes away some cold sweat from the other's neck. There is body warmth and pulse beats at his fingertips, comforting as ever. Then, similar to previous days, Mike pulls away, planning to let the President lie back in bed and rise to leave, but the President grabs hold of him.

"Ben?"

Looking down, Asher is staring at his own hand, confused as if he himself does not understand. He lets go of the hem of Mike's jacket the next moment, just about to lie back as previously, but this time, it was Mike who stops him, supporting him by the upper arm again, and pulling him closer.

"I'm fine, Mike."

"Bullshit."

"—"

The President shakes his head exhaustedly under Mike's stare, leaning again onto the shoulder of his personal detail.

"It's just another bad dream. I'll be fine."

He traces his hand up onto the back of the President's head, patting the blond hair in the same way as he would when comforting Connor.

"I first saw Kang on the ground, with a knife to his head, but then he became you. I couldn't move and just watched him standing beside your body and firing, round after round after round..."

"Ben, it was a dream."

"Yeah. Thank God."

When Mike's hand stops, Asher tilts his head, cups Mike's face in his hand, and looks over the rough features of the man above him. At the next second, before any more questions, Mike finds himself being shut up in a very physical way.

Several seconds of numbness later, Mike finally realizes that his President is kissing him. The blue eyes are unprecedentedly close, but to which he has completely lost the power to decipher. After a while, there is total darkness. His body reacts before his mind and kisses the man back with eyes closed. Later, when he is reluctant to give the other man in his arms some time to breathe, the pressure on his lips suddenly gives way and a weight falls back onto his arms. Mike opens his eyes in surprise and finds his President hanging onto him with his eyes tightly shut and no movement at all.

"Ben!" After the momentary shock, he quickly confirms that the other man has just fallen asleep. Mike then remembers that the attending physician has prescribed quite some tranquilizer for the continuous nightmare.

Feeling messed up, Mike holds on to Asher, motionlessly staring into space, until he sees Connor bringing his coffee back and barely manages not to jump. He gently arranges the President back onto his bed, leaves behind a confused Connor, and bolts out of the hospital to his home, where he left several days ago.

There is no one home. The emergency situation keeps Leah at her hospital, except for occasional visits to Mike's during her breaks in between rotations. He drops the key chain on the cupboard beside the door, stumbles inside, and slides down onto the floor against the back of the sofa. Holding his head in his hands, Mike groans like a trapped animal.

—The fact that Leah is not home relieves him, but such feeling makes him gasp again. He has fucking no idea what’s going on!

 

-

 

The next morning, Mike forcefully cuts into the tight-to-breathe schedule of the Director, and asks for temporary leave. After hearing him out, Lynne stares at him with a deadpan. If people's eyes could literally shoot daggers, Mike believes that his blood would already flood the office. He shifts on his feet, enduring the awkward scan silently. Just when he is about to take his words back, saying that one or two days-off will suffice, Lynne finally breaks the silence.

"About time. I was wondering how long you'd press on."

Mike meets her eyes in surprise. She folds her arms, leaning back into the chair in relief.

"You stayed literally outside of the President's room for five days without a break, Banning. Not even want to go to the break room, but rather nod off on the plastic chair in the corridor. Based on your experience, you don't need me to tell you what's wrong." Shaking her head, Lynne looks warm and sincere, "You now have a two-week holiday starting from today. You'll come back for duty afterwards. But before that, don't let me see you at places where you shouldn't be."

"I don't need..." Two weeks, that means two weeks away from Asher. Mike is suddenly aware and feels a sense of constriction similar to suffocation. It should be what he has wanted, but it is not what he wants to do, "A few days would be fine, I don't really need that long..."

Hearing his reply, Lynne's expression becomes worried, "Other than that, before you report, you must pass all reinstatement assessments. Mike, you are the default leader for the Presidential Detail. We will need you more than ever. The President and Connor will also need you. So you must be able to keep it at your best. Do you understand?"

It is a struggle, but Mike replies, "I... Jacobs, I didn't tell them anything when I left the hospital."

"I will explain it to the President and Connor."

Under Lynne's firm stare, Mike takes a deep breath and nods his obedience, "Thank you, Madam."

 

In the end, Mike reports back five days earlier. After getting through all the tests that he sure as hell knows how to pass, he is back on duty.

On that day, Lynne has his newly submitted documents in her hands, staring at him for long, then sighs deeply, "I hope you know what you are doing."

"If you have reservations about my competence, Madam, you can very well recall it."

Lynne sees his determination, but still rolls her eyes at his words, "Don't be funny. Two weeks ago, when no one would blame you if you chose to hide somewhere safe, you stormed into the White House and rescued the President all by yourself. Believe me when I say this, no one in this country will doubt your competence for the job. In fact, if you can't make it, the President's advisors will experience a collective breakdown, at least the White House spokesman will, or the reporters will drive him there. So welcome back, Mike Banning."

"Thanks, Lynne."

Seeing him at ease, Lynne unfolds her arms and smiles, "Anyway, whatever the situation, I believe that no one in the world is better than you are at protecting the President."

"How's the President?"

"You know him. He's a tough guy. He will get through." Mike shows no sign of relief, so Lynne continues, "When I explained to him face to face that you needed some time to rest and recover, the President said that whenever you wish to come back, you can come back, and he will always trust you with his life."

She gives Mike a pat on the shoulder and waves the file at him, "Now go, Bronson and Voight will brief you on the past two weeks and hand over. The West Wing suffered the least, so the President has already resumed his duty in the Oval Office. He and Connor will be staying at the Trowbridge House."

"Not the Blair?"

"The President's Guest House and the guest house for former presidents have almost the same security level and availability. The President said that he would leave office sooner or later, so trying it out a few years earlier doesn't really matter."

He can almost picture the President saying those words. Mike laughs.

After stepping out of the Director's Office, Mike rushes to the White House. Getting into his gear and taking over from his colleagues, he measures his steps as he walks towards the Oval Office. Strictly speaking, Mike only officially returns to the Presidential Detail as of today, and the President has naturally received the memo. Stopping at the familiar door, Mike takes a deep breath, and knocks.

"Come in."

"Sir."

He opens the door and walks inside. Mike sees the President standing by the French windows behind the office desk, staring afar. He is in sharp suit, looking smart. Sunlight enters the room through the bullet-proof window and shines gently on his blond hair. From the view alone, it almost feels like the old days one year and a half ago, but Mike and the other person now looking back both know it deep down, that the passed time and past people never come back.

"Welcome back, Mike."

Asher's smile seems to have never changed. Mike suddenly thinks of the blue eyes so close to him the other night. He has yet to figure it out. PTSD can be the reason for everything, but it was not all that Mike has felt that night. He is unable and unwilling to look over those abstruse and complicated emotions. He has run away once, but he will not run away again. Fleeing is not his way of life. He is finally standing here once again. Lynne is right. No matter what, he is always the best at protecting the President, and he always will.

"Thank you, Mr. President."

He will have these few years to faithfully perform his duty, and find out the answer.

 

 


End file.
